Warm Enough
by Society's Cavity
Summary: Quick, plotless one-shot. Kyle and Stan ran away together because they didn't want to run alone. But their feet are getting tired.


**Warm Enough**

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Stan wrapped the blanket around himself tighter, wishing he'd thought to bring an extra pair of socks. He could see his breath in front of him in the rusty sedan. It was so cold... it was so unbearably cold....

"Kyle," he whispered weakly, shuddering as he brought his legs to his chest in an attempt to conserve body heat. "Can we please turn on the heat? I can't feel my toes, Kyle...."

Kyle turned from the passenger seat to look at his best friend, curled up and shivering on the peeling backseat. "We can't, Stan," he tried to explain, his voice raspy and frozen in his throat. Stan looked as though he might cry. "We don't have much gas left, and they'll be looking for us... I... I'm sorry." He truly looked it. "When we cross the state border."

Stan let out a sad laugh that sounded more like a sob than anything else. "What if we freeze to death before then?" Kyle frowned.

"Don't... don't say that...."

"I'm just cold," Stan muttered. "I'm just cold." Kyle opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything to make the situation better. He was cold, too. But if they ran out of gas before they hit the border... then it was all over. "Come back here with me," Stan pleaded. "We can share the blankets."

Maybe in any other circumstance he would've protested, would've pulled an innuendo out of the request, but his breathing was starting to slow down, and the thought of another blanket was an appealing one. Kyle crawled awkwardly over the front seats and slid down next to Stan, who was smiling very softly. His lips were so pale.

"Come here...." He pulled the blanket off of himself (using every ounce of strength in his body) and pulled Kyle down flush against him, legs overlapping. "Here... help me get this blanket over us...." Kyle grabbed one of the upper corners and pulled it around him, handing Stan the opposite corner of _his_ blanket to wrap around him. When they'd finished tucking the two blankets underneath them, Stan let out a long exhale that grazed Kyle's cheek.

"Your socks are soaking," Kyle commented casually, as though he wasn't snaking his arms around his best friend to share body heat.

"I stepped into a deep patch of snow when I went out to take a piss."

"You should take them off."

Stan tilted his head to the side to face his redheaded friend. Their noses were only an inch apart. "We didn't think this through."

"No," Kyle replied, clutching Stan tighter, because he was warmer than the vinyl. "We didn't." He brushed his feet against Stan's, trying to kick off the socks. "You'll get frostbite if you keep those socks on."

"I don't want to be barefoot," Stan whispered, fear flooding his voice. "I'm cold." Kyle smiled at him, liking the feel of his warm breath against his face.

"My socks are dry. Just keep your feet between mine." He contorted himself enough that he could reach down to pull off Stan's icy socks and throw them down onto the floor. As promised, he sandwiched Stan's freezing feet between his. "Just keep talking. Your breath feels good."

"Alright," Stan complied, rubbing his feet together for friction. "Why are we here?"

Kyle chuckled, sliding a leg between Stan's thighs because they felt so warm. "Because you wanted to escape. And I couldn't let you go alone." Stan sighed, clenching his thighs around Kyle's and wrapping his arms around Kyle the way he'd already wrapped his arms around him. It wasn't as cold that way.

"But if you had let me go, I'd have the heater on, you'd be safe at home, and they'd catch me tomorrow at the gas station. The end." Kyle stared into his friend's dark blue eyes.

"Is that what you want?" Stan gave a frozen, broken laugh.

"No. But this isn't what I wanted either." Their hungry bodies were pressed much too close together and their trembling limbs were shamelessly entwined. But Kyle wondered if that was really so bad, then asked so aloud.

"Is this so terrible?"

Stan snorted, and Kyle felt the warm rush of air smack his face. "I'm colder than shit." Kyle wasn't. "And we're close enough to be fucking." Kyle smiled.

"Why don't we?" he teased, and Stan let out another snort. But he didn't reply; he just tightened his grip on Kyle's back and continued rubbing his feet together. It was another minute before he even spoke.

"I'm glad it's you," he said very softly, closing his eyes. "You're the only one I could do this with. The only one I could brave hell with." His voice was steadily decreasing in volume. "You're the only one I'd run away with." His right hand slid to the nape of Kyle's neck. "I'm glad we don't have enough gas to use the heater." Kyle smiled and buried his face between Stan's shoulders, the smell of winter permanently infused in his parka.

"Me too." He looked up at his gently breathing best friend whose feet were no longer cold. "I love you, Stan."

But Stan was already asleep.


End file.
